


Sometimes You Surprise Yourself

by SimoneClouseau



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Double Penetration, First Time, First Time Bottoming, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Self-cest, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 03:00:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6782617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimoneClouseau/pseuds/SimoneClouseau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>This isn’t new, not entirely anyway, but he doesn’t like to admit it, not even to himself.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes You Surprise Yourself

**Author's Note:**

  * For [essouffle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/essouffle/gifts).



> This is inspired by the sketches that essouffle showed me of present day Jonny and Patrick having their wicked way with a teenage Kaner. My mind works in predictable ways. Writing this was inevitable. Thanks to MadameOlivier for the speedy beta tonight.
> 
> I warned above for mildly dubious consent, because Patrick's 19 and the characters in the future are in a position of implied authority over him by virtue of being older, which might not be your cup of tea.

He feels a heavy dose of shame as his older self places a palm in the small of his back and pushes him toward the bed where Jonny is waiting, naked, one knee bent, half hard cock curving up his belly. Time has been good to Jonny, turning him from the baby-faced boy band cute that intrigues his sisters into a deeply handsome man that might even give Sharpy a run for his money. He’s messed around with Jonny in his own time, furtive drunken hand jobs and rubbing off on each other. This isn’t new, not entirely anyway, but he doesn’t like to admit it, not even to himself. And yet here he is, standing awkwardly at the foot of the bed, and also at his own back, bigger and broader in the way that he’s desperately prayed he would be for years, inexorably pushing himself forward. It’s trippy and weird. 

He wouldn’t have expected this—that he and Jonny would still be fucking around nearly ten years later. But they must, because his older self had caught him looking at Jonny and he’d smiled so slow and sure and shook his head like he had a secret. He’d gone off to whisper something in Jonny’s ear and now they’re all here in Jonny’s bedroom. Patrick fists his hands and debates saying he’s out. It’s too strange and he can’t understand how he and Jonny are still doing this. What they do in 2008 is just because they get bored and stupid drunk sometimes. He’s not interested in Jonny other than as something easy and available. He wants to yell at these two implacably calm adults—couldn’t they find girlfriends? Shouldn’t they be past it already? 

His older self gives him another shove and Patrick has ‘stop!’ on the tip of his tongue, but it never makes its way past his lips. Pulled in like gravity, he stumbles over to Jonny on unsteady legs, settling himself in a straddle over his waist when his older self directs him there with less than gentle push. He shivers and swallows, mouth dry, and Jonny smiles up at him, eyes crinkling at the corners, rubbing his hands soothingly up and down Patrick’s thighs, making him blush and drop his eyes. 

“How sweet,” his older self says, amused. 

“You are, Peeks,” Jonny says. 

Patrick blushes harder. Fuck no. He isn’t. People think that shit about him all the time, they think because he’s small and blond with curly hair, he’s some kind of princess. He’s suddenly furious with his older self who has to know all this, has to remember what it was like, and he goes to turn his head to shout over his shoulder at himself, when Jonny tugs him down with a hand at the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss. 

Patrick breathes out through his nose, shivery and shaken, heart pounding hard. He and Jonny don’t do this, at least not back in his time. _Now_ Jonny’s pulling at the corner of his lips with his thumb, tugging his mouth wider, like he knows just how Patrick likes it. Because— because he probably fucking does. 

He hears something thump on the bed and he breaks away from Jonny’s mouth to look at what it is—a tube of lube knocking against Jonny’s elbow. He stops breathing. 

“You wanna get fucked?” his older self says. 

Patrick shakes his head rapidly. “No, I—” 

“Don’t,” his older self interrupts, he pushes in close to Patrick’s back, leaning one stubbly cheek against Patrick’s. He drags a hand down Patrick’s belly, stopping just above his cock, which is still ruddy and hard even through fear and shame. “You want this.” 

Patrick bites at his lip, still shaking his head, and his older self nuzzles along his jaw before nipping at his ear, making him suck in a breath. “I’m you, remember, you can’t pretend with me.” 

Patrick squeezes his eyes shut and drops his head. He’s disgusted, he tells himself, repelled, right up until the moment where his older self eases a finger inside him and runs it into something. Something amazing. His older self chuckles at his little shout of surprise and keeps viciously rubbing at that spot. Patrick watches, hot with embarrassment, as precome wells up at the head of his dick, a fat bead spilling spilling down over the rosy plump corona and onto Jonny’s abs, all under Jonny’s dark-eyed gaze. Patrick has to look away. 

His older self works two fingers in and out of him now, barely letting him pause to breathe. It feels so good. Patrick despises it. And he despises even more the way he’s clinging to Jonny’s shoulders so hard the flesh has gone white. Or the way his stomach fizzes with heat when Jonny turns his head and presses a soft kiss to his knuckles, stroking up his arm with gentle fingers. Shit, why does Jonny do that? Patrick’s not some chick on prom night. 

His older self’s fingers keep pushing at that spot inside. Patrick can’t stop the rough gasps out of his mouth, the way he jolts above Jonny every time. It’s starting to build into something in his belly and he can’t even open his eyes. He grabs the base of his dick in a tight loop with his thumb and forefinger, because he doesn’t want to come this way. His older self chuckles, soft and delighted. And Patrick feels another hot curl of shame roll through him. He’s aching, when he finally opens his eyes back up, his dickhead is shiny and wet, but the thing that really gets him is the obscene pool of fluid on Jonny’s abs, marking his golden skin up. Jonny must see where he’s looking, because he swipes his fingers through it, running it over tensed muscle. 

Patrick’s eyes dart up to Jonny’s face and Jonny swipes his tongue over his lower lip, maintaining his gaze, expression slowly melting into a smile that has Patrick holding his breath. 

“I’m putting in another,” his older self says against his ear. There’s the wet squelch of lube being squeezed out of the bottle and then the added stretch of another finger forced in alongside the other two. 

“Fuck,” he says, trying to squirm away, but his older self presses in close against his back again, a hand closing on his hip to hold him in place. 

“All things that are worth it hurt,” his older self says and the words are very familiar. Only when his grandfather says it, it’s ‘ _all things that are worth it make you suffer_.’ It’s yet to be seen whether this is worth it, but when Jonny pushes up onto his elbows to brush their mouths together, Patrick stops trying to get away. Jonny’s good at distracting him this way, plush mouth stealing his attention. 

When his older self finally gets his cock into him it hurts. He’s big, they’re big, and when his older self tells him to relax he wants to laugh. He’s bent over Jonny’s chest from the force of his older self’s thrusts inside, crying out with every stroke, and he doesn’t want to give in and rest his head on Jonny’s shoulder. It feels like admitting something. What, he has no idea, but eventually he does it anyway, cheek on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Tears gather at the corner of his eyes when Jonny brings his hand up, stroking them through his hair. What the fuck is wrong with him?

“You want _his cock_ , don’t you?” his older self says as he leans in, breathless and amused. “You always want his cock.” 

Patrick cries harder. Yes, fuck, he does, and he hates himself for it. Hates the way he feels when he watches Jonny go home with girls, hates the way he imagines Jonny sinking down on him when he’s brought a chick back to the hotel room. He doesn’t know how to make it stop. His older self stills inside him, making him feel the burn of his body struggling around his own thick cock. 

“Yes,” he finally chokes out. 

“Hush now,” his older self says, “you’re going to be fine.” 

Patrick doesn’t see how that’s true. He wants his teammate’s dick up his ass. He wants to make Jonny come, and get sloppy blowjobs from him, to press up against him when he’s horny _and sober_ and ask ‘you wanna?’ and have the answer always be ‘yes.’ And maybe he and Jonny are still doing this stuff so many years later, after winning cups and signing contracts and getting big fucking houses, but they shouldn’t be. They’re not supposed to be doing this teenage shit still. And Patrick’s not...he’s not...he’s not gay. 

But he’s here now and he can’t hide, so he says, “Please.” 

“Yeah,” his older self says, smoothly satisfied. 

“Peeks, I dunno,” Jonny says, brows knit together and Patrick doesn’t know what to do with the longing that wells up inside of him. 

“It’s fine,” his older self says, squeezing Patrick’s shoulder. “We can take it.” 

His hand drops between their bodies, a finger pushing in at Patrick’s rim, and it’s then he realizes, his older self doesn’t mean for Jonny to fuck Patrick, he means for Jonny to fuck Patrick at the same time. Patrick mewls at the addition of a finger alongside his older self’s cock, and the tears start running again by the time his older self puts in the second. It’s so much. He doesn’t know how he’s ever going to be able to take more. He’s squeezing Jonny’s right hand with his left and trying not to sob. 

His older self only gives him a little time to adjust before he hauls back on Patrick’s hips, positioning him so that Jonny can fit his cock at his hole. Patrick trembles and moans. 

“Hey, breathe,” his older self says, rubbing his belly again in smooth circles, “we’ve got you.” 

And then Jonny’s flexing his hips, cock nudging up inside him while Patrick gasps big deep breaths in and out. It’s a tight fit, and his older self mutters a curse behind him, while Jonny below him is chewing at his lips, brow furrowed up again. Patrick’s mouth keeps opening up to tell them he’s done, no more, it’s too much. And even though tremors run through his body with every centimeter Jonny sinks inside him, he keeps quiet. 

Somehow, when Jonny’s cock is in deep, Patrick’s ass flush with his pelvis, he feels strangely better. Patrick’s older self is angry with him. He realizes it when his older self starts moving again, hard and punishing. He doesn’t know why or what he could’ve done. And it hardly seems fair, because they’re the same fucking person, but he’s furious at Patrick for some reason. Patrick, overwhelmed by the time travel and the sex stuff, didn’t see it sooner. But it’s so clear now, especially in contrast to Jonny, who draws him back down to kiss him, tender almost, like Patrick’s precious. Jonny lies still underneath him, cupping his jaw in both hands, sliding his tongue into Patrick’s mouth like he has all the time in the world. For a bit, Patrick can forget the way he’s forced open, his older self pounding into him, and just lose himself in the crush of Jonny’s mouth. 

It doesn’t last though, because his older self tugs him upright, pulling Patrick back against his chest, driven in so deep that Jonny’s cock is a steady mind-blowing pressure on that _place_ inside. His older self takes him in hand, stroking him off so mercenary and perfect, because yes. They have the same dick. 

On edge, he watches Jonny’s face, the sweep of the long dark lashes and the flush that extends all the way down to his nipples, and the expression on his face that seems just for Patrick. He’s lovely, Patrick thinks as he comes. Both Jonny and his older self groan as he clenches down around the two cocks he’s speared upon and empties himself in heavy spurts over Jonny’s belly. 

They remain still for a long moment, letting him adjust, he realizes, before at last, his older self gently eases back and Patrick can raise himself up off of Jonny’s cock. Patrick’s older self runs a careful finger around Patrick’s rim and makes a satisfied noise, before shifting him off of Jonny onto his back on the bed beside him. 

Patrick collapses, exhausted, all his strings cut, ass aching and sore, but he doesn’t close his eyes. He watches, fascinated, as Jonny parts his thighs, allowing Patrick’s older self to move between them. 

“Mmm,” Jonny says, stretching languorously on the bed as Patrick’s older self thumbs him open and thrust inside. 

“C’mere,” Jonny says to Patrick, his eyes half-lidded, bouncing on the bed from the power of Patrick’s older self’s thrusts inside. He smiles and brushes their lips together when Patrick moves in, kissing him. Jonny moans into his mouth and it’s weird because he knows it’s not anything he’s doing. Or it is, but not _him_ him. After a little bit, Jonny bites at Patrick’s lower lip and then breaks the kiss to rock his head on the pillow. 

Patrick thinks, watching Jonny’s face, that he really likes getting fucked, going so easy and pliable underneath his older self. They fuck like they’ve been doing it a long time, comfortable and sure of each other, and as Patrick’s older self tugs one of Jonny’s legs up to rest on his shoulder and then leans in to kiss him, he realizes they’re not just fucking around. They’re together—in a relationship. Jonny’s arms go up around Patrick’s older self’s shoulders, hands tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. Patrick’s older self’s thrusts speed up and Jonny arches into them, lips parting. 

“Yeah, fuck, Peeks, c’mon,” Jonny says back arching off of the bed and Patrick doesn’t know why he’s blushing again, he’s just had both their dicks inside him, but for some reason it feels like he’s witnessing the most intimate thing that’s happened tonight. 

Jonny comes untouched, striping up his stomach, while Patrick’s older self fucks him through it, drawing deep moans out of him now. Patrick watches Jonny’s dick where it flops on his stomach fascinatedly, every time Patrick think’s he’s done, Jonny shivers and shoots out just a little bit more come. At last, Patrick’s older self slows and stops, chest heaving with spent breaths as he leans back on his heels. 

Patrick’s older self must have come at the same time, because when he pulls out, his cock friction-red and swollen, there’s come seeping out of Jonny’s hole. Fuck, but it’s gorgeous. 

Patrick shifts on the bed, trying to be surreptitious, but it doesn’t work, because Jonny looks over at him, eyes immediately dropping to where he’s gotten hard again. Jonny smiles. 

“Oh to be 19 again,” he says. His older self snorts and rolls his eyes. After a moment, Jonny gets up out of bed with a deep groan, his hand going to the small of his back. “Jesus, I’m going to get cleaned up.” 

Patrick follows him with his eyes, watching the shift and play of muscles as he walks naked to the bathroom. 

“Hey,” his older self says, and Patrick looks over to find him watching Patrick with a dark expression. The sink is running in the bathroom and Jonny is whistling tunelessly. “When you go back, be good to him.” 

“I…” Patrick starts, taken aback. 

His older self grabs his jaw between his fingers, grip indelicate. “You’re gonna put him through hell.” Patrick stares back at his older self with wide eyes. “He loves you. Don’t waste time pretending you don’t love him back.” 

“But I don’t—” Patrick protests. 

“Sure.” His older self laughs bitterly. “Can’t lie to me, remember?” 

Patrick drops his gaze and nods. He can’t imagine him and Jonny being the way these two are, that it could ever be that easy. Jonny still can’t look at him after what they do when they get drunk and Patrick can barely even say the words to himself. But his older self seems so certain. 

He turns over onto his other side, wanting a little space away from his own sharp-eyed gaze. After Jonny climbs back in bed, he hears the sound of them talking in muted whispers for a little bit, the covers moving as they get settled. When it goes quiet, Patrick tentatively looks back over his shoulder to find Jonny spooned up behind his older self, and it’s only three feet, but it’s not his time and it’s not his Jonny, and the distance has never before felt so great between them.

**Author's Note:**

> On the [tumbls](http://simoneclouseau.tumblr.com/). Mostly embarrassing myself.


End file.
